The sound of her voice gutted the alley. It wasn’t Carla’s voice anymore, not the sharp snap of sarcasm or her clipped mutters when sharpening her daggers. This one was raw. Wrong. Drenched in hunger that didn’t belong to her.
Her pupils were blown wide, veins glowing black up her throat like molten cracks in stone. Her hands trembled at her sides as she leaned forward, lips trembling, teeth bared toward the dead body slumped on the stones.
"No," Carla whispered, like saying it out loud might change it. She took one step forward. "Carla—"
"Stay back." Kael’s voice cut through, flat and brutal.
The scythe was already in his hands, its cyan fire humming sharp in the dark. He didn’t move to strike her down, not yet, but his stance was iron. Unyielding. His eyes tracked every twitch of her
